


D.S. al fine

by MoreThanSlightly (cadignan)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e23 Insatiable, F/F, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:17:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadignan/pseuds/MoreThanSlightly





	D.S. al fine

It hurts so much that there’s a moment where Lydia doesn’t understand who’s dying. There’s a sword in her side—cold, sharp, wrong—and pains blots out everything. It isn’t until she touches her stomach and her hand comes away clean and dry and bloodless that she puts it all back together. Allison. _Allison_. She knew that. She told them not to come.

She’s clutching at Stiles, screaming and crying, or maybe he’s clutching at her. It doesn’t matter. She needs to _go_.

Maybe she stops screaming long enough to say that out loud, or maybe Stiles just gets it. That doesn’t matter either. He shoves at her weakly and says “Go.”

She runs so fast the walls blur. She runs so fast she can’t scream any more.

It’s like some awful war photo when she gets there, everyone still like a flash just went off. There are bodies. People are staring in horror. Allison is in Scott’s arms. Dead. And nobody’s moving and everyone single one of them is fucking useless, Lydia most of all. Lydia knew. She knew and she told them and nobody listened. Nobody ever listens.

Lydia only realizes she’s screaming again when Scott covers his ears and then crumples to the ground unconscious. She spares a glance around: everyone is unconscious, passed out probably. Dead maybe. Lydia would listen for their breath, but somebody’s crying—in huge, heaving, choking sobs—and she can’t concentrate. She doesn’t care anyway. Allison’s dead.

Lydia never even told her—

Lydia sits down, or collapses. Either way, she’s on the ground now, and she’s pulling Allison’s body out of Scott’s limp arms and into her lap. She wants to say something, everything, but it’s all caught in her throat and it’s too late now anyway. There are so many things she never said. She wipes a drop of water off Allison’s cheek, and then scrubs angrily at her own eyes. What’s the point of crying? What’s the point of anything? There’s no clever solution to this puzzle, no way out no matter how much werewolf super-strength or human ingenuity they have. Lydia forces herself to stop for a moment, just long enough to suck some air into her lungs.

The darkness is thick. It’s so quiet the silence might swallow her. She’d rather listen to screaming. How lucky that’s the one thing about this situation she can change.

When she finally releases what’s caught in her throat, it’s a different kind of sound. Not a warning but a wail. It’s higher, eerie and lonely and keening. It’s a little like a song, but not one that Lydia ever wants to hear again.

There are no words, but it’s a song about Allison.

Strangely enough, it makes Lydia feel better, like she’s finally in tune with the universe, vibrating at the same frequency. Lydia feels like she can breathe again. She won’t choke on the silence. There is no silence, anyway: under the song, she can hear the percussion of her own heart, her own breath, and the pulses and breath of all her unconscious friends. They’re not dead then. That’s good. She can also hear the trickle of blood that is still dripping out of Allison’s wound.

Lydia’s not sure why, but she puts her hand over it and holds it closed. Allison is still a little warm. That makes her want to cry again, but she doesn’t. The wailing is still pouring out of her, unearthly high but so steady, in time with all the pulses and all the breath in the living bodies around her.

There’s so much life here. More than enough. They can all spare a little.

Lydia cradles Allison’s head in one arm, then bends down until her lips are touching Allison’s, and breathes. Everything goes quiet, but it’s not the end. Lydia closes her eyes. It’s a rest between movements, a few beats of silence with no heartbeats and no exhalations, then Lydia wills the whole orchestra back to life again.

Everything around her crescendoes: she hears Isaac groan and Scott scrabble to sit up, Kira and Noshiko and Chris wondering aloud what happened, how long they were out, and in the distance Stiles slowly and painfully making his way toward the courtyard.

Lydia doesn’t open her eyes until she feels Allison’s breath catch against her lips.

“Lydia,” her name is barely audible, a soft rasp of air, a sound more beautiful than symphonies, “I heard singing.”

“Shh,” Lydia says, and kisses her.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [D.S. al fine [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185731) by [theleanansidhe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleanansidhe/pseuds/theleanansidhe)




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